Diary of a Legion
Part 1 Nicole kicked her stereo, and it buzzed back to life, blasting the room once again with metal. She turned back to her computer, and started typing once again. Mack walked in quietly and shut the door behind him. Nicole didn't notice, and continued to pound away at the keyboard. He lay down on the floor, still unnoticed, and stared at the ceiling fan as it swung violently back and forth, the clanking drowned out by the sound of mix CD. She spun around in her chair, and let out a little squeal. "You couldn't even knock? I am naked," she covered her breasts with her arms, "jackass!" "My bad." Mack just grinned. "It's like you expect me to get all sex nuts if you don't have your shoulders covered. You should know me better than that." "Well it is still rude as fuck." She kicked her stereo again, bringing the music to a stop again. As the sound of the ceiling fan swaying rapidly flooded the room, Mack stood up from the floor. "So you want to do something today, drama queen, or are you going to be stuck inside all day, again?" "Well if you let me get dressed, we could go skate or something." She grimaced, and walked into her closet, taking a hand from her chest and grabbing an Etnies shirt she looked back at Mack, her head cocked to the side, a grimace on her face, "SHOO!" "Alright, I get it, I'm out." Mack walked outside of the house, thinking too much, as always. She keeps asking me to spend time with her, then she starts getting frisky, but she always acts so hateful towards me. I guess I just won't ever figure women out. She walked out with her Element board in hand, and Mack popped his crappy Maple up into his hands. He was to big to be riding a skateboard, but he enjoyed an active lifestyle. She pulled her red hair back into a ponytail and smiled a half-hearted smile at him. He couldn't see how she was faking it, and he smiled back. "So have you been working at that guitar thing?" She really like to see him getting into music. "Yeah, but I just don't have the skills to write a song yet. I will get to around to it." He stepped on his board and she followed suit. "Hey, I've been wondering," Nicole turned to Mack as they dismounted and walked over to the playground equipment, "do you have anything... bad... that you have wanted to do, but you haven't done it yet?" "What, like anal?" Mack's trademark goofy grin began to appear. "You won't even kiss me down there, and you are thinking about anal? You are such a guy Mack." Nicole stuck her tongue out. "But really, have you ever?" Mack shrugged his shoulders, "I really don't think about it much, it's not that important to me. You know, the sex stuff. I would rather save it, make it something special." "Well I think about that kind of stuff a lot. Especially with you. I just... I've feel like I have been saving myself for you..." "Maybe you should just hold on a little longer, I'm not going anywhere." ---- Mack looked down at his phone as he left Evans Jr. High, and saw one new text message. See u after school He stuck his phone back in the pocket on his bag. He couldn't believe after all his protests, he folded and asked his mom for text messaging. It seemed so primitive when you could just talk to someone. "What's up dude?" Louie walked up to him, in his silly silver moon boots and a Disturbed t-shirt. "Think I could come over again this weekend?" "Of course! What are friends for?" "Alright man, I will ask my parents." Louie ran off to where his dad always picked him up. Mack walked to the school bus and climbed on. He sat in the front, next to Brady. "Hey, bro, you got a cig?" Brady shifted his bulk around, to lean back. "When do I not?" Mack tapped a pack of red's in his pocket. "Sweet. You wanna play some b-ball?" "Naw, I have plans." Mack hadn't really gotten to know anybody, and he didn't really want to. He reached into his backpack, and pulled out a composition book, flipped to a blank page, and started sketching out a grim reaper. As time went by, and Mack waited for the call, he got bored, and popped his PS2 open, and put in Yakuza. He played for a while, then his phone vibrated. He pulled his black curtains back, and looked out past the breezeway to see the sun was down. He looked down at the new text message. Guess who just climbed in my window Mack looked down, shocked. Well it sure as hell wasn't me He was naive, but he wasn't completely stupid. he threw his controller against a wall. She was his best friend. They hung out every day, and her father even invited him over for their family barbecue every weekend, and for an Iranian, that was a big deal. He had half a mind to tell her parents, but he was having a hard time fighting back tears. That night, he punched the first of many holes in the drywall. ---- "What's wrong bub?" Michelle walked into his room after a few soft knocks. Mack sat in his tattered green chair, with his legs hanging over the sides and his super-shallow body Applause laying across his lap. "Just trying to find the words to these chords." He strummed through the four chords that would take him a little ways further down the road. "It sounds really sad. Was it something I did?" His mother always thought things were her fault. Bi-polar people always acted strangely. "Nicole cheated on me." Mack's straight-forward answer didn't surprise his mother at all. She always encouraged him to share his thoughts. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?" "Can you... help me? I just need someone to write this down, my hands will be busy." Mack tossed a tiny composition notebook at his mother. ---- The Nineteen year old Mack stopped writing his little story, and opened up his wallet. He had changed wallets since, but he knew it was there. He pulled out the cards stuffed into one pocket and found a small, yellow, cracking piece of paper. Empty Whiskey Bottle was scribed in his mother's hand at the top of the page. That song was his, and he would never forget what had happened to him that day. He wouldn't forget, that, was the marker for the road he chose for himself. "It all happened for a reason. Aimed me where I needed to go. It took me straight to where I found her." He closed the window and smiled at his desktop, then pulled his window back up and broke the story to remind himself, just in case he might ever forget. He looked up at the screen, and scratched his back. ---- Mack looked his father dead in the face, the 5'9' man red faced, staring up at his fourteen year-old son. "You heard me! Your mother is a blood sucking bi-" Mack backed up and chucked the can of axe at his father's face, and blood covered the new carpets. "I have been through so much shit, while you carried on with your life, living in some big ass house, and then flaunting it like I might even think of ending up as some rich old fucker like you!" "I worked hard for this! I saved, and I saved, and even with that whore of a mother you have taking $500 a month out of my check, I still have nice things!" Richard was having a heard time talking with the blood pouring from his nose. Mack stood up and walked off, leaving the house behind. "Hey Mack!" His new stepbrother Jacob followed his out. "You want to get away tonight? Me and some friends were gonna grab some beer and stuff." "You gonna have pot?" Mack turned back, his eyes puffy, and his brows furrowed. "Yeah man, you just need some time away from Rich. He usually doesn't talk this much you know." "Don't remind me how little personality he has." Mack's face broke, and he cracked a smile. He didn't realize then how quickly his expression had changed. ---- The thirty pack sat empty in front of Mack, and he had a tiny metal pipe in his hand. He took a hit, and blew out a puff of smoke. "So," He said to Jacob and his friends, "when is this little party over?" "Not anytime soon little dude." Jacob insisted that being a year older made him 'bigger'. Mack had emptied most of that beer himself. He couldn't believe he could out-drink these high school red necks. "Well I am about to pass out over here." "Alright." Jacob and the others moaned a little bit. "Let's go guys." As the posse entered the trucks, Mack blacked out. ---- Mack looked up. He saw a tiny cleft chin, and a mass of messy black hair with blond highlights. He wasn't sure what was wrong with his eyes, but everything seemed slow motion. When he realized that strobe lights were producing the effect, he looked back up at the girl, noticing his head was in her lap, and she was holding an ice pack to the back of his head. "Who are you, and where am I?" The girl brushed her hair back and gave him a little smile. Her eyes were very concave, and he could barely make out her facial features. The only word that could have described her was gaunt, even when she smiled. "I am Christina, and this is a bad ass party is what this is. Glad you could join us sweety." Mack disliked the sound of that word. He sat up in the bench and looked out at a large tin building filled with people and neon. "So, you want something fun?" Mack gave Christina a strange look, and she pulled out a small postage stamp with a drawing of a rose on it in blue. "Stick it on your tongue." Mack took it, and placed it in his mouth. It felt like pop rocks, only it seemed to pinch his tongue a little, and he winced at first. The techno drowned out and the lights started to close in. "So you are a virgin huh?" Mack placed a hand to his face. Was he speaking? What was going on? His body was covered in goosebumps, and they felt like tiny frogs lurching beneath his skin. He looked up at Christina, and he could feel his throat vibrate, but no sound was coming out. "Well Jacob already told me, so you don't have to be so embarrassed, and plus, I like that." He could feel her hands wrap around his, and pull him up. He met the floor pretty quickly, and he was pretty sure that it introduced himself. She pulled him up, laughing, and led him to an office tucked away in the back. She shut the door, and closed the blinds. She started to touch him, and he touched back. She pulled away, and said, "Just lay there, I know what I am doing." He lay back, unable to protest. ---- He woke up and opened the blinds, looking out at the few people passed out on the concrete. Most of them were naked, and a few of them looked like they were still shaking off the high. He noticed he still wasn't wearing clothes, and he looked around frantically for his pants. He found them, and pulled them on. God forbid he could find his underwear in the mess of streamers and blankets. He saw Christina laying down, close to where he was. Had he really? He fell to the floor, and put his head in his hands. He couldn't believe it, and for him, this wasn't one of those coming of age things, this was breaking a vow to himself. "Well good morning grouch." Christina looked up at him, clutching the sheet to her chest. ---- "I will not take longer than an hour on each assignment." He had written that line all week, but he wasn't anywhere close to the hundred thousand sentences he had been assigned. He rubbed his hand, cramping badly from the scribbling. His handwriting became worse and worse every day, and eventually he was writing one letter at a time, flipping through pages until that letter was done. It seemed to be an effective method. "You still aren't done?" The fat man stared down at him as Mack shook his head. "Get the fuck outside," the fat man said as he pulled the Wal-Mart boat paddle from it's spot next to the back door. Mack hung his head low, and made his way to the back yard. The place was a mess. Bird-of-Paradise trees littered the western half of the yard, and there was a six foot long trench on that side. Mack would soon regret ever digging it. On the opposite side of the yard, a giant satellite dish stood upright, now unusable due to childish hi-jinks. He would regret that too. The back of the yard's fence was destroyed, and the pieces of rotting wooden fence were stacked in a corner. He didn't do that, but he would regret that too. The fat man pointed at the side gate, towards the front, and grabbed the large trashcan and a large metal dustpan. As Mack opened the gate, the paddle pressed against the back of his head, shoving him into the pile of leaves that had built up between the wall of the house and the fence. He picked himself up and dusted off. The fat man shoved the dustpan into his hand. "You need to clean all of this up. Put it in the can, and roll it out to the dumpster." "Alright I will." Mack couldn't muster a smile anymore, not to save his life. "Well with that sort of enthusiasm, you have thirty minutes." The fat man walked off as the tears rolled down the eight year old Mack's face. He had to hurry. The pile came up to his knees, about a foot and a half. He scooped as fast as he could, but didn't even have half of it done by the time the fat man made his appearance again. "Not done? Look you lazy little shit," he grabbed the dustpan from Mack and bent down, using his massive hand to scoop a large cluster of leaves from the ground, "It's easy as that. Get back in the yard." As Mack made his way past, the dustpan echoed against his backside. "Faster!" Mack ran into the yard, and the fat man followed, grabbing the paddle. "Start running." Mack looked up in confusion. "Where?" "Stop being a smartass and run!" The paddle came down on the boy's lower spine as he turned around. He winced in pain, but kept going. The fat man was able to keep up because Mack had a hard time moving. He was only four foot six at the time, and weighed a whopping 280 lbs. The paddle came down hard on him several times as he made his way around the yard, pushed to the outside edges by his tormentor. He tried to jump across the large hole and fell inside, twisting his ankle. He picked himself up despite the blows and limped on. The blows came quickly and ferociously, without aim. His body was wracked with pain by the time he made it to the second turn, where he stepped on the remnants of the back fence. His leg plunged through the rotting boards, and a ten-penny nail made it's way into his foot. He screamed in pain as he fell on top of the boards, his leg trapped in the fencing. The fat man pulled him up by his shirt, ripping him from the nail. Blood trailed from his shoes as he tried to catch his breath on his hands and knees. His shirt was soaked in tears as the paddle came down hard on the middle of his back several times. He began to limp, both legs now injured. He had only traveled fifty feet or so, and yet it had been the longest fifty feet he would ever remember. The fat man followed, beating him profusely, until he had made one lap. Mack was out of breath, showing just how unhealthy being homeschooled had been for him. "Don't stop now! You still have six laps to go you little prick!" The paddle came down against his backside, and Mack sighed heavily as he heard it split. The sigh lasted for a second as the broken oar had suddenly become quicker and more aggressive. After the third lap, the paddle hit the fence behind him as the fat man threw it away. A new implement came down against the back of his knees: a mop handle. The boy stumbled and fell, his shins landing on a stiff garden rake. "Get up, get up!" The fat man's screaming persisted, and Mack had no choice but to comply. If he didn't, his step-father would surely kill him, but with the blood now streaming from him in many places, and his tears beginning to dry, he had nothing left in him. He felt himself lift from the ground, and he could only hope he was dead, and it was some heavenly angel come to take him away. ---- The older Mack paused to dry his eyes. It was hard, but he knew it would help someone someday. Just the other day his mother had called him. She told him his sister was starting to go see her father more, and he just said what he always did; "I could care less.", but this time, Russell had told his mother to tell Mack that he loved him. Mack's stomach turned in disgust just thinking about it. ---- Instead, he was drug back into the house, his arms and legs dragging, scratched and torn by burrs that littered the ground. His body was thrown against a tall bar stool, and he groped for it to get some balance. The sound of a belt being pulled from the fat man's waist usually made him tremble, but he was already shaking profusely. The belt came down hard and quick. Mack's arm hair stood on end, and his legs gave out completely. As he fell, taking the stool to the ground with him, the beating continued. After what seemed like hours, the snaps of the leather against his body stopped and he lay there and wept. The fat man took his leave, and Mack put his hands to his face. Even it was burning like wildfire. He looked up and the fat man was standing over him. "Your sentences are done now. Go to bed." Mack did as he was told, and made his way to the front of the house. He took some newspaper from his toy-box and lay it on the carpet. The afternoon sun poured through his window, down onto his bed. He wanted to lay down on it, but he didn't think he could climb onto it at this point, so he lay there and bled.